Marrow candy,
marrow coffee,
marrow greens,
marrow marrow
in the corners
of your mouth.
When you
bite in error
something soft
of your own, your
tongue or lip, even that
has meaty
iron in it.
You’ve been chewing
old remains for so long,
those spongy bonehearts
are all that you know.
The soundtrack
of whatever it is you do
is always the song of
splintering that croaks
broken, broken;
song
of vulture,
of carcass bird.
April 1, 2014
Marrow Marrow
About Tony Brown
Dark Matter 
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